Third Time's The Charm
by Daydream Cloud
Summary: Alexander's being stubborn again.


**AN: Sooo this was written months ago when I was still an enthusiastic fan of Ham. I still am! Just not to the point where I'd write fics for the fandom anymore. Anywayyyy, I thought I'd just give it a few tweaks and publish it just to get it over and done with. I'm not at all satisfied with the final result but welp, it's what you get. Hope you enjoy? I'm hoping it doesn't seem too terribly OOC.**

 **There are a couple references to my other story, Tick, but you don't need to read that to understand this.**

* * *

The evening sun cast its warm glow through the window of the study, setting the beige walls aflame with a gradient of red and gold. Alexander cared not for it – instead, he turned his face away, tilting it so the light would not blind him. As usual, he had assumed his customary position at his writing desk; hunched back, hand curled around his quill, and the continuous scratching of his art in motion.

However, there was a difference in his movements, though it was so minuscule that one who did not know him well would hardly think to call it to attention. The motions of his hand lacked the vigour of his usual enthusiasm. His eyes did not quite reflect the flare of passion that the act of writing was wont to bring on. They did not seem capable of even maintaining their focus on the parchment he wrote on, wandering willy-nilly to different parts of the room.

Eventually, he stopped writing altogether, setting the quill down with a heavy sigh. His gaze flickered to the shades of summer painting his study walls.

Summer.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to alleviate the growing pains throbbing just below his temple. He exhaled, slowly. Even as the headache seemed to ebb slightly, it did nothing for the guilt gnawing away at his heart. The crestfallen expression on his wife's face when he'd declined her invitation to spend the summer upstate for the final time refused to leave his mind. He hated doing this to her, hated knowing that it was not the first time, nor would it be the last, but it wasn't his fault she couldn't grasp the severity of the situation! Failing to get his plan through Congress was a surefire way to lead their country, still young in her independence, to her doom.

It wasn't just his wife either. The thought brought with it bitter indignation and Alexander did nothing to hold back his frown. Was Jefferson so much of a blind, hypocritical fool that he couldn't see the legitimacy of his debt plan? There was Madison as well. Alexander couldn't help but suspect Jefferson to be the cause of Madison's switch in parties. He couldn't imagine the poppycock that Jefferson had to be feeding Madison to have gotten him on his side.

Before his mind could launch a mental philippic against the sheer ridiculousness of the stand they were taking against him, the telling creak of his study door opening broke him out of his reverie. He fought the urge to heave a sigh. Dear Angelica was most likely making another attempt in persuading him to follow them upstate. He knew she meant well but he grew tired of having to repeat himself.

"My dear Angelica, no matter what you say, my response will prove incapable of conceding to your insistent words," he said, shaking his head as he made to turn around and brace himself for the wildfire that was Angelica. His movements were halted when familiar feminine hands rested on his slumped shoulders.

"Alexander," and that was definitely _not_ Angelica's voice murmuring his name. The hands slid past his shoulders, curling loosely around his neck and Alexander leaned back into the comfort of their touch.

"Eliza," he breathed, for the name of the woman he'd given his heart to was as significant as the air that cycled through them every day. He reciprocated her gesture, reaching up with his left hand – for his right was mapped with ink stains – to caress her arm. He marvelled at how the delicate exterior of women betrayed none of the iron steel that lay within his wife. Without Eliza by his side, he didn't think he would have come this far, not without her solid, supportive presence.

"Alexander," she said again, but there was a certain edge in her voice that made Alexander suspect that she had more to say than just his name. This time, Alexander allowed his sigh to escape him.

"Perhaps I should clarify: the words previously stated towards Angelica are applicable to you as well," he said, wholly prepared to let loose the brief argument of a few paragraphs that had already formed in his head in response to her impending request to join them on their trip upstate. He loved his wife, but if she was too blinded by the enticements of idle pleasure to note the indispensability of the approval of his financial plan, then he would talk himself hoarse until she saw reason-

"I am heading out to the gardens," she said, cutting through the pause that she was well aware preceded a speech. She raised her hand that was not captured in Alexander's calloused one, carding gentle fingers through his mussy hair. "I had entertained the thought that perchance you might be able to part with your quill long enough to accompany me so, but I see such a notion proves impossible today."

"Nay, if you would but wait a moment," Alexander cut in, almost before she had finished speaking. In hurried, albeit smooth movements, he rose out of his chair and turned to face her, her lithe hand still in his grasp. "It would only take a minute or two to clean myself up into a presentable state. I would not deny such a simple pleasure to you, my love." Internally, he winced at the hypocrisy of his words, and he was certain his wife had not missed the crude irony either, despite her agreeable hum. Nevertheless, he went on to kiss her hand in a well-practised flourish and she could not help a small smile, reaching up with her other hand to caress his jaw, thumbing his cheek.

"Well then," she said, pulling away, pretending not to notice the slight fall of disappointment in her husband's features, "I will await your presence by the door. Angelica has thoughtfully offered to care for the children while we are out."

"It's one less thing to worry about," agreed Alexander. She nodded in acknowledgement. Before she returned to the world beyond the confines of his study, she paused by the door, tapping a finger on her cheek.

"It would seem the ink with which you write has transgressed the boundaries of pen and paper," she said, laughing a little. Then she was gone.

Alexander basked in the sound of her angelic laughter replaying itself in his head. It was an action his wife participated in far too few times these days. Then the meaning of her words registered in his brain and he brought a hand to his cheek, swiping his knuckles across it. They came back ink-stained. Actually, he may have wiped more ink onto his face rather than off it, seeing as how he'd used his right hand to check. All the more reason to hurry on to the washroom, then.

Long after he had left the study, the grandfather clock in the corner continued to tick on.

* * *

Freshening up was not a particularly eventful affair. His trip to and fro the washroom went on uninterrupted, though he could hear the excited chattering and occasional shrieking of his offspring from elsewhere around the house. Angelica was doing an excellent job of keeping them occupied. Any and all ink stains on his person had been removed, his hair tied back, and he'd changed into attire that was appropriate for a brief sojourn into society. He felt better than he'd been the past several days, as if the small shift from a rumpled, bedraggled workaholic to a slightly less rumpled, bedraggled workaholic was enough to wash away his burdens. It wasn't, of course, but nevertheless, there was improvement.

Upon reaching the base of the staircase that lead downstairs, he was almost bowled over by two giggling angels.

"Why, Angie, Fanny!" he said, his voice reflecting one of someone who had long since grown used to actually being bowled over by little angels and monsters alike. He had grabbed the banisters in time, retaining his balance. "Surely that is no ladylike way to get around!"

His only response was Angie's petulant pout, complete with crossed arms, and a sheepish expression from Fanny. There was no doubt as to who was the instigator of their mindless running.

"Don't be so hard on them, Alexander." Despite her amused tone, Alexander still stiffened at the sight of Angelica rounding the corner. They had not exactly been in the best of temperaments in their previous meeting.

"Angelica," he started, then stopped, unsure of the direction he wished to guide the conversation. Angelica levelled an even stare at him in response.

Angie and Fanny promptly seized the opportunity and dashed away, muffled giggles trailing behind them. Alexander said nothing as he watched them go. However, he couldn't help a comment, adoration colouring his voice.

"Excitable little creatures, are they not?"

"Perhaps you would be more familiar with the wild nature of your children, if you would-"

"Alexander, dear, I suppose your presence means we can go?"

"Yes, of course!" he beamed, turning towards his waiting wife. His blatant relief at the deliberate interruption evoked a raised eyebrow from Angelica, but she chose not to pursue the matter, shaking her head with an exasperated sigh.

"I'll man the fort while you both are gone," she said. "Hopefully, the house will remain intact by the time you return." With that, she stalked into the direction Angie and Fanny had gone.

"Don't fret, dear," said Eliza, noticing her husband's frown, "She will come to terms with your decision." He stared at her, surprised. There was none of the bitter resignation he had expected in her tone. She stared back, her dark eyes reflecting the unique type of serene fondness that only she seemed to express towards him. The moment was gently broken as she offered him an elbow.

"Shall we?"

* * *

The sky was awash with colour. A portion of it was stained with the golden brilliance of the sun. Slowly, but surely, a darkening blanket of midnight blue crawled over it, swallowing the sun's radiance bit by bit. Alexander did not notice the progress of nature taking place over their heads. There were more pressing issues to be dealt with. Such as the silence that had only grown more and more prominent since they left the house.

There had to be a reason for his accompanying Eliza to the gardens – his wife was not in the habit of disturbing him from work for such minor things these days. He usually denied them if she did, but the ever-present guilt within him made it impossible to deny such a request today. It was likely she wished to discuss something with him. Another attempt in persuading him to follow them upstate, no doubt.

Even so, this new method of persuasion was…unorthodox, to say the least. Eliza had not spoken a word since they left. Instead, she was content to simply gaze at the sky, or look around, taking in their surroundings. He'd attempted eye contact with his wife a few times, in hopes of initiating conversation, but she had only smiled back, displaying the sickly sweet innocence that children so often exuded when denying that they'd scribbled all over the walls, with crayons still held tightly in their hands.

Was she baiting him? Biding her time, waiting for him to speak first? Was that part of her scheme? If so, it was working. The silence was thundering; he could not stand it any further. So he broke the silence, choosing his words carefully.

"How goes the packing for your trip upstate?"

Well, subtlety had never been a trait of his.

"It nears completion," she said, seemingly unperturbed by his choice of topic, "No doubt we will all be ready by the morrow's morn."

"I see." Alexander, in an uncommon moment of unease, found himself fumbling for the appropriate words to carry on conversation. Truly, his wife was one of the few people who gave him cause to curb his tongue. As it was, he had no need to fill in the ensuing silence.

"Alexander," and there was that tone again, the same one she'd used in his study, "do you think me a fool?"

That one question had him sputtering.

"Wh-what-no, of course not-what-" Quickly, he pulled himself together, stringing his thoughts into a more coherent response. "Of course not! What should bring forth such a ridiculous notion?! Eliza-" Here he stopped in his tracks, gently grasping her shoulders and turning her to him so that their eyes met. "Eliza, you hold the title of the woman I hold dearest in my life, highly regarded in beauty and more so in mind. What possible cause would I have to think you otherwise?"

She held his gaze for a moment longer. Briefly, she closed her eyes and let out a world-weary sigh. When she opened them again, Alexander found himself swimming in pools of renewed determination.

"If that is true, why do you patronise me so?" She held up a hand, effectively cutting off the protests he had been ready to spout at the accusation. He closed his mouth, reluctant as his hands fell to his sides and he stepped back, giving her the space she needed to say her piece.

"I know your work is important. I know how essential it is that your financial plan gets approved by Congress. Surely you are familiar enough with my character to ascertain that I would not wish to steal you away for the summer just to keep you for myself?"

He knew that. How could he not? Eliza had not the wit of Angelica, but she had a mind just as sharp – she had to be, to have been able to keep up with him thus far. Even so, the real reason he knew she had to whisk him away upstate did not prove to be any better.

"I know that your work is of utmost importance, but I cannot help but feel that, sometimes, you forget your own mortality." She was staring at him in earnest now, dark eyes pleading for him to see the logic behind her reasoning. "You are only human, Alexander. No matter how invincible you may think yourself to be, operating like this, working nonstop, can only lead to an early grave."

At those words, he could not suppress the flinch that took him unaware. It was an action that he knew his wife had not missed, and yet, when she reached up to cup his jaw, when their eyes met once more, all he could see was unyielding patience. Eyes that did not reflect pity or disdain, only a desire to understand.

God, what had he done to deserve her?

"I loathe standing by the side, only able to observe as you run yourself ragged, knowing that any advice I might give that stands in the way of your work would only fall on deaf ears. The feeling of helplessness is not a good one; and did you not once promise, in a time so long ago, that I would never experience such a feeling by your side?"

Now that was a low blow and they both knew it. Alexander Hamilton was a man of honour. There was not a promise he would not uphold, nor a duel he would refuse - not that he'd been challenged to one just yet, which was a miracle in itself.

"…I have to get my plan through congress," was all he could say, meekness leaking through his words.

"And you shall," promised Eliza, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "I ask not of you to part with your work forever, but only for a time."

"Time isn't something I have much of."

"I'm not asking for much, Alexander. Merely a brief reprieve."

"I suppose…" He was sighing, but rather than a frown marring his features, a thin smile marked his lips.

"You smile because you know I am speaking common sense," chided Eliza, tugging him on the arm to resume their journey. He fell into step next to her, her elbow locked insistently around his. It reminded him of younger, simpler days. Days when his youth was powered by a fervour to fight for his country, to take a stand.

Days when Laurens was still alive.

He shook his head to rid it of the ticking sound that had taken up a sudden residence. This was ridiculous. "Eliza, I can't-"

"Look!"

They had reached the gardens. Eliza was gesturing ahead of them and he could see why. The trees were ablaze with colour - shades of green offset in gold. Their leaves danced with the wind, glimmering as they bathed in the sinking sun's rays. There was a sort of surreal feeling to the calm of their setting, a sudden sense of peace and wonder at the observation of a simple display of nature.

It was into that quiet, dreamlike atmosphere they walked, saying not a word, but instead looking around in awestruck silence. They continued like that for a while. Eventually, they found a bench and slowly, together, they sank down on it.

The moment slunk away and the sky faded into a muted midnight blue, the trees shadowed by encroaching darkness. The silence lingered in the air.

Eventually, Alexander broke it. "Eliza, I can't…" He trailed off, staring into her hopeful eyes. She must have thought that they'd reached an agreement earlier, he realised.

At his faltering words, her smile drooped slightly.

"I can't…" he tried again, his mind racing as he fumbled for words. Eliza looked resigned, seemingly knowing what his next words would be.

"I can't stay for long," was what finally left his mouth and he blinked in surprise. The feeling was mutual, it seemed – Eliza was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. Then she smiled.

"Of course," she said, placing a hand on his, which was curled up into a loose fist on his lap.

"I'll bring my paperwork with me."

"I wouldn't have expected anything else," she laughed lightly. He did not miss the sideways glance she shot him. "Besides, I'm certain I'll be able to pull you away from your quill through other means."

"I'm sure you will."

"I'm just glad you're taking a break," she sighed. She laid her head against his shoulder. "Even if you'll have to return home partway through, at least you'll be spending some time with the children. With me."

The image of the grandfather clock in his study burned in the back of his mind.

"…Yeah," he murmured. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the irrational feeling of guilt itching at his heart.

"A break."

* * *

It was a week later, in the midst of unpacking his writing materials, when he first heard the knock on his door. He paused as he set his box of quills down. Eliza, Angelica, and the children were still upstate. No one else who Alexander knew of were the type to come knocking on his door at such a late hour.

That left him with completely no idea as to who was at his doorstep.

Which left him unsurprised when he found that it was someone he had never met before in his life.

Her name was Maria Reynolds. She apologised for bothering him, explained her situation, and even before she began pleading for his aid, Alexander had already made up his mind to help her however he could. So he lent her enough money to tide her over for a while. Then, upon taking in the woman's distraught state, he escorted her home. The walk was short but at the end of it, Alexander had a clear plan of action in mind: get her in touch with Burr. From what he had deduced from her situation, a divorce was the most practical solution.

Upon reaching her block, Maria thanked him profusely for his kindness. He waved her gratitude aside.

"I'm afraid my actions tonight will not hold an impact in the long run," he said. "If I may, however, I do propose that you see Aaron Burr. He's the State Attorney General; his position is more likely to aid you than anything I have done tonight."

"Aaron Burr?" The name was said slowly, as if Maria was unable to comprehend why they were discussing her situation.

Hamilton nodded. Then, he stepped away, gesturing to the evening sky.

"Well, I should return to my abode," he said. Maria said nothing. Instead, she closed the gap between them. The next few moments saw them, quietly, wordlessly, enter the house and into what Alexander thought to be her bed chamber. The open door was left unheeded; her husband must not be home, if her prior actions hadn't already tipped him off. She turned to face him, her hands sliding around him, pulling him close.

"Stay."

Alexander wasn't sure why, out of everything she had been doing leading up to that moment, that had been the one to bring him to his senses. He took hold of her wandering hands and, with absent gentleness, pushed her back, pulled away. His breath caught when he was reminded of her beauty.

Then he remembered Eliza. Eliza, who had kissed him goodbye with a devout request to stay safe and not overwork himself mere hours ago. Sweet, supportive Eliza.

What was he doing? What had he been about to do?

Maria was watching, confusion creeping into the edges of her expression.

"No."

Seeing the way her face fell at that single word sent a twinge of regret through him. However, he pushed on, his tone maintaining a soft, but firm edge.

"I'm afraid I've reached the extent of my ability to aid you in your current situation. As I said before, it would be in your best interest to seek out Aaron Burr. This is more his field than mine." Giving her hands a final reassuring squeeze, he backed away a couple of steps.

"My work awaits me. I bid you a good night, Miss Reynolds."

He left.

As he settled down for a sleepless night to catch up with the work he was undoubtedly lagging on, he wondered if, had he chosen to miss out on the trip upstate entirely and work himself to the brink, he would have let himself be charmed by Miss Maria Reynolds' wiles. He scoffed at the thought.

What a ridiculous notion.

* * *

 **AN: And that's a wrap! If you're wondering who Fanny is, I did my research while I was scribbling the first draft and I don't remember all the details but the Ham fam adopted a kid temporarily or smtg...yeah, anyway they happened to have a kid called Fanny at the time of that summer. Don't trust me, I'm just too lazy to recheck at this point.**

 **Anyway, hope that wasn't too terrible. Let me know what you think...? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**


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